Death in Disguise: Emma Berry Mysteries, #5

By Irene Sauman

A will. A death. A way to go.

It's 1884. Emma, now with a young son and no longer travelling with Daniel on the Mary B, is finding it difficult to settle into town life. Her outspoken views don't always go down well with the members of the Ladies Benevolent Society, and no one wants her herbal remedies with doctors in town

So when her dear friend Janet Pickles is arrested for murder, Emma is only too ready to spring into the fray, calling on all her instincts, knowledge, and good common sense to uncover the truth. But can she convince the coroner and the local police Sergeant that they've got it wrong? After all, she's managed a riverboat crew, so anything is possible. Isn't it?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Irene Sauman
• Release date: Nov 27, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223330226

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Author’s Note

The Emma Berry mysteries are set in the 1870s on the Murray River, the third longest navigable river in the world, surpassed only by the Amazon and the Nile. Its great navigable length was responsible for the development of the riverboats, the side-wheel paddle steamers that opened up the Australian countryside along the river’s length to settlement and sheep farming, in much the way railways did in the wider countryside.

Indeed, it was the railways that eventually ended the glory days of the paddle steamers, though they continue to ply the waters in the 21st century, carrying tourists and holiday makers. Two generations of my father’s family produced working riverboat captains. But this story is strictly fiction.

Death in Disguise is the fifth title in this series.

Main Characters

Emma Berry - wife & mother, herbalist

Daniel Berry - Emma’s husband, Captain of the PS Mary B

Darcy Berry - their 7-year-old son

Janey Wirra - Emma’s maid of all work,

Abe Miller - Janey’s man, and Emma’s man of all work,

Old Mr. Pickles - head of the Pickles family

Janet Naughton (nee Pickles) - his granddaughter, Emma’s friend & part-owner of the Primrose Tearoom with

Henrietta Pickles - her mother

Alex Naughton - Janet’s husband, livery stable owner

Nathaniel Pickles - Henrietta’s estranged husband, senior clerk at Echuca wharf

Charity Pickles - Nathaniel’s sister, manages Pickles boarding house where her father and brother live

Grace Hewitt (nee Pickles) - Charity & Nathaniel’s sister, a widow, visiting the family

Miriam Hewitt - her daughter,

Jonathan Inglis - Miriam’s fiancé, a young lawyer,

Henry Collins - a businessman

Dr. MacArthur - coroner

Sergeant Donovan - policeman

Mr. Samuel Rasmussen - of Kentish, Rasmussen & Foyle, solicitors

Mrs. Gloria Rasmussen - his wife, member of the Ladies Benevolent Society

Delia Rasmussen - their daughter

Echuca Ladies Benevolent Society - The visitors reported on several parties now receiving funds from the Society. These matters involved considerable discussion and adjustment; eventually it was resolved to increase the allowance given to several of the old pensioners on the funds. Riverine Herald, Tuesday 4 July 1882, p.3

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Chapter 1

Emma Speaks Out

A black and white drawing of grass Description automatically generated

September 1884

The meeting room in the Echuca Town Hall buzzed with conversation as the members of the Ladies Benevolent Society gathered for their annual general meeting. Emma Berry and her friend Henrietta Pickles took their seats amidst the chatter, fashionable outfits, and hats of all styles.

At the back of the room, behind two long tables, three young women in maids’ uniforms of black dress and white pinafore, were setting out teapots, sugar bowls, cups, plates of cakes and scones, and anything else needed for a smart afternoon tea. A large urn steamed in one corner.

Emma imagined the maids had been supplied by some of the well-heeled ladies present whose husbands were involved in the river or timber trade, or some other lucrative profession, but not a captain of a Murray River steamer, though she could have offered Janey’s services. Whether her lovely outspoken Janey would have appreciated that would have been another matter.

A white cloth, with the Society’s name embroidered in blue on the front, covered the table on the raised stage at the top of the room, and a tall vase containing blue and pink hydrangeas with greenery, decorated either side of the stage.

I see Henry Collins is here, Henrietta said sotto voce. No doubt he will have some criticism to make.

Oh, does he not agree with the Society’s work? Emma asked, settling her dark blue hat with its white embroidered trim more firmly on her head, and exchanging a nod with a lady in her street who she knew slightly. She had only been a full-time resident in the town for two months and was still finding her way. If it weren’t for Henrietta and her daughter, Janet, she would have struggled to find acceptance.

As if marrying her brother-in-law a year after her husband’s death weren’t enough, she had travelled on a riverboat with Daniel and their all-male crew for most of that year. She knew propriety had been maintained but it would have been a waste of time trying to explain that to anyone. Her mother had warned her, as had her grandmother.

Henrietta wrinkled her nose and leaned closer.

Oh yes. He’s very supportive. But we are only women after all, and we cannot possibly do anything without a man to guide us. The irony in her words was not lost on Emma. Henrietta was separated from her husband, Nathaniel ‘Nat’ Pickles, and ran the successful Primrose Tearoom with Janet. She saw no need for a man to manage her life.

Emma understood Henrietta’s feelings perfectly. Travelling on a riverboat had brought her into contact with men of all temperaments, not least of all her crew members and their erstwhile captain, now her darling husband.

Which one is he? she asked now. There were three men standing at the front of the room, in conversation with two smartly dressed ladies.

The short, stout one with the bushy moustache. He’s talking at our secretary, Mrs. Watson-Smith.

Emma frowned. Talking ‘at’ was an apt description. There was tension in that group. Mrs. Watson-Smith’s white-gloved hands were gripping her folder of papers to the point of distorting its shape.

Oh dear.

Indeed. The mayor appointed him his representative as patron of the Society, more to get him out of his own hair than anything, I suspect. Though according to Anna Marshall - the mayor’s wife, that is - it isn’t working out very well. Henry Collins is her cousin you know.

Emma hadn’t known, but she was discovering she needed to tread carefully in her social interactions for fear of stepping on relationships she wasn’t aware of.

Is the other lady the president?

Henrietta nodded. Mrs. Augustus. Very efficient. She’s been president for six years now.

Eventually, the two Committee ladies and Mr. Collins took their seat at a table facing the assembled group, while the other two gentlemen found seats in the front row.

Mrs. Augustus welcomed everyone and spoke generally of the good work that had been done during the year in relieving the stress of residents who found themselves in hard times, through no fault of their own. This last remark seemed to bear a slight emphasis and brought a telling ‘hmph’ from Mr. Collins. Mrs. Augustus looked as if she had a bad smell under her nose as she went on with her speech, detailing who had been helped, why, and how.

One family had lost their home in a fire caused by a log rolling out of the grate. Accommodation, clothing, and other essential items had been found for them. Another man was off work for several months due to an accident while cutting wood. He had a large family and had been unable to provide for them during that time. As Mrs. Augustus spoke, Mr. Collins seemed to find something of great interest on the ceiling.

His casual and almost dismissive attitude was not being accepted in complete silence. A growing restlessness was permeating the audience. There was some rustling, and the occasional clearing of throats, but deference to Mrs. Augustus prevented anything further. When she ended her speech, the audience gave her more than just polite applause, as if in compensation for the man’s rudeness, and perhaps to send a message to him.

Something must have annoyed him. He’s behaving very badly, even for him, Henrietta whispered, as Mrs. Watson-Smith rose to read out the treasurer’s report, in lieu of the treasurer, Anna Marshall, who was unable to attend due to a family emergency. Emma wondered if the emergency involved avoiding her cousin.

Her mind wandered as the figures for the incomings and outgoings created a soporific effect. She found herself watching Henry Collins as his disinterest in proceedings continued and was only brought back to the moment when Mrs. Watson-Smith declared herself supremely happy to report that the Society had ended the year with twenty pounds in its account. This was greeted with another burst of applause. Emma thought with amusement that it might also be a result of relief that the treasurer’s report, rather long and detailed, had been brought to a close.

As Mrs. Watson-Smith sat, Mr. Collins got to his feet, thrusting his hands into his trouser pockets.

Thank you, ladies, for those most interesting reports, he said inclining his head politely to the two ladies beside him. I must congratulate the Society on its benevolent work over the past twelve months, he went on, stepping out from behind the table and taking centre stage. I guess we, as a caring society, will always be called on to support those who are unable to take proper care of themselves, and you have excelled yourselves in that.

The ladies at the table seemed to relax and Mrs. Augustus almost allowed herself a smile.

But I must say, Mr. Collins went on, his voice rising on a note of disbelief, I was most surprised and disappointed to hear that you hold twenty pounds in reserve. That is a significant amount to have on hand, unused. One has to ask, how diligent have you been in searching out these needy people? Surely there must have been others you could have spent these monies on? All the fuss with fund raising, and requests for donations that you’ve made over the year, and you haven’t even spent it all.

A collective intake of breath from those present seemed to draw the air out of the room. You could have heard the proverbial pin drop for a moment, before bewildered whispers, like a gentle breeze, swept the room. But no one, not even the Society’s secretary or president stood up to refute the criticism. Emma’s eyes narrowed. Before she had time to think she